


Lucky accidents

by IAmNotOneOfThem



Category: LazyTown
Genre: Fae & Fairies, Fairy!Robbie, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, No Smut, Soul Bond, The heat is only referenced, fae!Robbie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 23:17:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9629501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmNotOneOfThem/pseuds/IAmNotOneOfThem
Summary: Sportacus and Robbie wake up to find themselves bonded. With no way to reverse it, they have to learn how to deal with their change in relationship...





	

**Author's Note:**

> Me: Mare, you should work on your current projects. Don't take on too many-
> 
> Me to me: Write a new one.

Waking up was like emerging from the depths of an ocean, awareness coming only slowly, in steps.

First, he took notice of the hardness of the surface underneath him, not hard like the benches he sometimes slept on, but firm, so very unlike his fuzzy orange chair that it wasn’t all that strange that that was what he noticed first.

Next came the realisation that he had absolutely no idea about where he was. In fact, he realised right afterwards, his thoughts sluggish as if they were wading through mud, he had no idea about a great number of things, which _should_ have concerned him, but the haze snugly wrapped around his mind somewhat prevented that.

Thinking was difficult, felt almost _bothersome_ , as if there was no reason to worry about the fact that he woke up somewhere he didn’t recognise.

Also, there were arms wrapped around him tightly but not enough to make him feel trapped or constricted. No, he felt _safe_ and that concerned him _a lot_.

Robbie tried to wriggle free, but the arms around him just tightened and whoever was cuddling him shuffled closer, their breath a ghost touch on his neck. There was also something else, tickling him every time the person behind him inhaled and exhaled, but he couldn’t figure out what it could be. His priorities, arguably, were somewhere else, namely figuring out _what was going on_.

He couldn’t remember what had happened. The haze, an almost impenetrable fog, released only glimpses, flashes of memories, as if taking pleasure from his internal panic. He’d reach out for a memory, just for it to disappear, always remaining close but exactly out of reach to taunt him. It was frustrating, to put it mildly.

All he got were glimpses. He remembered... warmth and touches, remembered the taste of something sweet, yet also acid against his lips and on his tongue. He remembered moaning a name that, just like the rest, remained foggy – he couldn’t even tell whether he had known it before or not. The fact was as worrying as it was strangely reassuring. Maybe he’d got drunk and picked up a stranger at a bar. The moment the thought crossed his mind, Robbie abandoned it again. Somehow, that didn’t feel right. And though his inability to remember could have been connected to a generous amount of alcohol, he didn’t have a headache, nor any other symptoms he associated with a hangover.

Except for the lack of memory, that is.

Robbie tried to free himself once more, but the person behind him – male, his brain supplied as he felt something half-hard brush his backside – just tightened his grip, like a touch-starved octopus.

‘Wonderful,’ Robbie thought. ‘Of all people I had to hook up with a cuddler.’

The wave of pleasure that ran through his body, starting at his chest and spreading like hot chocolate on a cold winter day, felt so right that Robbie knew with certainty that something was very wrong.

The longer he lay awake, listening to the contrast between the frantic beating of his own heart and the stranger’s calm rhythm, the clearer his thoughts became and the more he noticed.

He was hungry, like he hadn’t eaten in days. Robbie tried to remember the last time he’d had something to eat, but couldn’t remember. What day was it anyway? He could distinctly remember having a cake, but that felt like it had been ages ago, not yesterday, as he thought it should. He was also thirsty, his throat dry and rough. Robbie stuck his tongue out between his teeth to wet them, noting, with a mixture of smugness and horror that they were not only swollen but that he could also feel _teeth marks_. As he shifted, trying to get some distance between the body behind him and himself, several things happened at once.

One, he realised just how sore he was; his back protested, but that was nothing compared to how his arse felt. It felt raw, like... Heat rushed into Robbie’s cheeks and the tips of his ears turned pink.

Second, a feeling of anxiety coursed through him with such strength that it took his breath away. Every fibre in his body but his brain screamed, all but demanding he press them close together again. At first, Robbie thought – or prayed, rather – that he was simply missing the body heat, but the desire went deeper, resonated with a part of him that he liked to ignore most of the time.

Third, he was pulled backwards, grip around his chest and waist tightening. For a moment, the human heater stopped breathing, resuming only when Robbie’s back was pressed against his – very muscular and very firm – chest. A rumble, not unlike a purr or gentle growl, went through him. Robbie decided he might as well give up wriggling; there was no way he’d escape the grip, lacking the strength. Additionally, it was practically impossible when his own body betrayed him.

To be fair, being cuddled did feel good, but that didn’t change anything about the situation. He tried to convince his body of that, but the traitor ignored him in favour of enjoying the feeling of being held, of _security_ and _belonging_ and _love_ —

Robbie nearly choked on his breath and tried to turn his head enough to look around, but their surroundings were dark, not pitch black, but he still couldn’t see anything but odd shapes that might as well have been apparitions.

A small, very small part of him tried to convince his neocortex to simply accept the situation and enjoy it. The ‘while it lasts’ went unspoken because it didn’t feel right; _this_ wouldn’t end anytime soon, it was…

Robbie paused, eyes going comically wide.

_No._

His limbic system gleefully ignored his mental protests and continued the trail of thought, uttering the two words he had never, ever wanted to hear.

It couldn’t be.

It _couldn’t_ be.

In the midst of his panic, he did not notice the body behind him had shifted until a head found its way onto his shoulder, nuzzling Robbie’s neck absently.

Robbie stared at the moustache, the silly blond curls and the pointed ears.

Then, he screamed.

\-----

Waking up was like someone had emptied a bucket of ice-cold water over his head and slapped him, awareness coming so quickly, within a heartbeat, that it left Sportacus dizzy and disoriented.

The hero opened his eyes with a snap and flinched backwards. He barely had the time to register what was going on before _Robbie_ shouted. “You- You!”

Sportacus stared blankly. He gradually became aware of a handful of things. Robbie Rotten was in his bed, _naked_ and upset. He could feel the other’s panic under his skin as if it were his own, a steady throbbing similar to the pulsations of his crystal when someone was in danger. There were other emotions as well; confusion was the most prominent, even though there was no place for that emotion amongst the many currently displayed on the villain’s face.

Sportacus froze.

Tentatively, he reached for the throbbing, letting the flow lead him to the centre of his magic, where, closely intertwined with his own, was something else, a rope, thick and sturdy, connecting him to—

For the first time in _decades_ , Sportacus _cursed_.

“What did you do?!” Robbie shouted, shoving at the hero’s shoulder. Sportacus didn’t budge because of the force, but because of the feeling that spread out starting from where Robbie had touched him, an amalgam of so many emotions trying to discern them gave Sportacus a headache.

“I don’t—“

“You’re an elf!”

The way Robbie had said it almost sounded like an accusation. Sportacus frowned. “Well, yes… I thought you knew. You always call me blue elf after all.”

Robbie scoffed. “That’s a nickname! I call you kangaroo too, doesn’t mean you are one!” In his gesticulating, the blanket had slipped down the tall man’s chest, revealing a multitude of bruises, hickeys and a few scratches. A glimpse of a memory flashed before Sportacus’ inner eye. He could vaguely remember putting those there. “You’re an _elf_!”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Sportacus asked, frustration laced in his tone.

Robbie glared at him and tugged the blanket back around him, a protective layer Sportacus wanted to tear down again. The moment the thought came up, he tried to smother it down again, but it was too late; Robbie’s gaze hardened. Simultaneously, however, his eyes darkened.

Sportacus could remember looking into the same blown pupils the last days.

_Days._

What had happened?

“It means, you dense elf, that we b… bo…” Robbie stumbled over the word, tongue seemingly twisting into knots. The villain shuddered.

Sportacus didn’t need him to finish the sentence; the realisation already hit him without further prompting.

He jumped to his feet and tried to back away, but was tugged closer by something in his chest. It was like a rubber band, expanding only a little just to snap back into place again. He didn’t mind as much as he should have. “But-“ Sportacus cleared his throat, hoping his voice would go down an octave or two. It didn’t. “You’re human!”

Robbie gave him a look. It was so familiar that for a moment, Sportacus could almost convince himself that everything was fine.

“You’re… you’re not human, are you.” It wasn’t even a question. Sportacus took a deep breath, trying, in vain, to enter the same state of mind he achieved when meditating. For someone who had just woken up being bonded, he was strangely calm already. He blamed it on the _bond_. “What are you?”

The villain’s eyes flashed silver, like liquid mercury. “Take a guess.”

“Fae,” Sportacus breathed out and cursed again. “We… you triggered my heat…”

Robbie bared his teeth. “ _I_ triggered _your_ heat? No, **_you_** triggered **_mine_**!”

Sportacus bit on his lower lip and released air through his nose. The urge to give in, to appease his _mate_ , was making it hard to focus; he swallowed down the feeling, willed it into submission. It was still _there_ , but not as prominent. “It doesn’t matter. Robbie… we…”

“Are _bonded_ ,” Robbie practically spat out the word. “We’re bonded and it’s your fault!”

“How is it my fault?”

“You could have told me you’re an elf!”

“You could have told me you’re fae,” Sportacus pointed out. He was awarded a flash of anger, which he _felt_ seconds before it became visible on Robbie’s face. “Robbie, we shouldn’t argue. We have to… think of what to do now.”

Unconsciously, out of instinct, he reached for their bond. It warmed under his _touch_ , sending a wave of calm through his body. Sportacus’ muscles relaxed and he saw Robbie’s do the same. The next moment, the spell was broken. Robbie _growled_ and jumped to his feet, poking Sportacus’ chest with his index finger. “ _Don’t you dare!_ ”

“I’m sorry-“

“If you ever manipulate me again, I’ll…” The fae trailed off. Sportacus _knew_ he couldn’t finish because fae couldn’t lie, just like he _knew_ standing like this hurt Robbie’s back. Suppressing the urge to reach out and guide him back on the bed was incredibly difficult. Sportacus gritted his teeth, lesser needs screaming at him to _comfort_.

“Robbie,” he got out. “The situation isn’t easy for me either, alright? Neither of us—“ He had intended to say ‘wanted this’, but couldn’t force the words past his tongue. His eyes widened.

He’d attributed his acceptance of the situation to the bond; from what he knew, the process released certain chemicals, but he could barely remember his lessons. Never in his life would he have thought he’d be bonded one day. Magical beings could not bond with humans and finding one of the _Huldufólk_ out in the human world was rare, so he had expected to be alone most of his life, which would have been _fine_ , he had a family here in Lazytown, but—

Now that he knew what a bond felt like, he understood why his parents had always said it was the greatest feeling in the world. This _connection_ , it went deeper than the crushes he had have in his youth; deeper than anything he’d ever felt before.

Sportacus had never really paid attention during the lectures on bonding, but one thing he remembered clearly: A bond could not create emotions out of nothing. It couldn’t bind two people without _something_ being there already.

Robbie seemed to know this too, as he stood there, silent, his lips pressed together in a thin line, instead of arguing. It would have been of no use anyway, Sportacus thought; he’d know if Robbie tried to _twist the truth_ or _deny_.

The elf took a deep breath. “Neither of us planned on triggering the other’s heat or ending up bonded. But it happened. There’s no way to reverse it.” The mere thought of trying to undo their bond made Sportacus feel physically sick. “We’ll have to… deal with it.”

“Deal with it,” Robbie repeated, drawing out the words as if testing their taste on his tongue. “And how should we _deal with it_?”

Sportacus shuffled from one foot to the other. He was painfully aware of their state of undress and had to forcefully drag his eyes away from Robbie’s chest, his long limbs, his- The hero shook his head, tips of his ears pink. If Robbie noticed, he didn’t say anything. He’d be in no position to judge anyway; Sportacus caught the way the fae’s gaze flickered to his muscles whenever Robbie thought Sportacus wouldn’t see.

“I… don’t know, honestly.”

That seemed to surprise Robbie. He barked out a dry laugh which ended in a cough. Sportacus’ fingers twitched. Even if he offered water, he was certain Robbie would decline vocally. “The hero admits he’s out of his wits.”

“You’re too, don’t deny it.” Sportacus sighed. “The bond is there, it won’t ever go away. We… well, we spend our heats together, even if I can’t really remember it… I think we should… _think_ about it. For a few hours. We can meet in the evening and… talk?”

He hadn’t meant to sound so unsure, questioning, but his voice betrayed his uncertainty.

A bond was no guarantee for anything. It didn’t magically create a working relationship, or whatever it was that was between them. That took work and dedication. The reward, though, would be more than anything an ordinary relationship could offer. But he wouldn’t presume.

It would hurt, to ignore Robbie and act as if nothing had happened, but if it was for the best, he’d try. By the gods, trying would be difficult, nearly impossible, but he’d _try_. Even before their accidental bonding had Robbie’s well-being been important to him, now more so than his own.

Talking would be a good start. From there, they could make it work. Friendship, bed partners, maybe… He didn’t dare hope, didn’t even know _why_ he hoped – before this mess, he hadn’t even known what he felt for Robbie might have been more than a deep friendship.

When he didn’t feel any anger, disgust or rejection from their connection, Sportacus breathed out in relief. Robbie shrugged. “Fine. It’s not like we have a choice anyway.”

With a snap of his fingers, the fae was dressed, the only hint that something was different the few strands of hair that were out of place and the man’s swollen lips. The magic that crackled in the air was familiar and Sportacus wondered why he’d never realised Robbie wasn’t human before.

“My lair, at seven.” Was all Robbie said before storming past him. The ship opened the door without being prompted to, revealing that apparently, somewhen before or during the heat Sportacus had landed it. Or it had landed itself, he wouldn’t put it past his AI.

Sportacus hummed his agreement and bent down to gather his clothes. He’d shower before getting dressed, then he’d have an early breakfast. It was still dark outside, so it would take a while before the children woke up. Playing with them would provide a wonderful distraction, he was looking forward to it.

A tug pulled him from his thoughts.

Sportacus yelped and would have fallen on his back had he not done a backflip. He turned around. Robbie was lying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling of the airship.

“Are you alright?” Sportacus asked, unable to keep the concern and worry from his voice.

Through the bond, he felt the range of emotions that the fae went through in a matter of seconds. Confusion, denial, anger, annoyance, resignation. Before Sportacus could ask what was wrong, Robbie spoke up. “I think there’s a problem. I can’t leave.”


End file.
